The Heir- Hate Sex Tuesday
by BadOldWestern
Summary: For Day 2 of Malina Week; hate sex. Gets aggressively fluffier at the end. Nikolai has proposed it's about time to produce an heir, Mal rushes to Alina to give his two cents.


_A/N- Alina is Nikolai's queen, Mal her loyal (and bitter) captain of the guard. An heir is in talks, leading to tension between our two lovebirds. _

_ Written for Hate Sex Tuesday. Hate Sex indeed. _

Her hands grip the sheets and her knees dig into the mattress. She whimpers, but is too sick with pleasure to think of anything else but him inside her. He kneels behind her, moving his hands from her hips. His hand slides down her stomach to get a better hold on her. His thrusts grow rougher.

"Your belly feels bigger. Is that because I've never taken you like this or do you have his baby in you yet?"

She falls to her elbows, wincing as he grips her hips tighter. _So he's heard. This is why he's so angry_**. **Tears prick her eyes. "He has not touched me. I won't let him. As you ordered."

He groans in response, a groan she only hears when her tongue and his cock are involved. So this greatly pleases him.

_Too rough_**. **She wants to say, but it feels better than she'd expected.

Her knees and shoulders are shaking. She grips onto the sheets with white knuckles, eventually raising one hand to clasp over her mouth to hide some of her noise.

He feels the familiar tightening grip on his cock and purposefully slows, drawing his hips back and forth with tortuous leisure. He won't let her finish quite yet, and that makes her shoulders quiver with desperate panting. He pushes her hair over one shoulder, leaving her neck bared.

"You're mine," he growls, and it's a futile phrase, but also one they keep repeating. Because here, tangled as delicately as they are, they belong to each other.

She nods frantically, pushing her hips back against his so he fills her again. Chills tingle up her spine at the sensation.

"Yes, yes, Mal, I'm yours." She moans out softly, getting herself worked back up again. Her hips move, picking up her pace against him. He goes still, tightening his grip on her. He stops her movements. He lowers his chest to brush along her back. He covers her.

"I just don't want him to touch you."

"He won't, Mal."

She accepts his weight, whimpering at the feel of how warm he is. He begins thrusting again, harder than before. She lets out a lyrical gasp, her moans surging out of her throat.

His lips finally touch her, brushing her jaw and throat, nipping her shoulder. Open mouth kisses bloom against her body. The touch of his tongue to her skin sends shivers through her limbs. One hand rounds her hips and reaches to stroke her clit, slowly, one stroke per heavy thrust. Just a few moments of this touch is her undoing, and her back arches against his stomach and chest, her ass wiggling into him. The shuddering inside her leads him to come. He growls, low in his throat, a sound that vibrates against her. He places his head between her shoulder blades, catching his breath. Alina lowers her body to lie on the bed, his body tenderly blankets hers. She stays very still, not sure what to do next. Their breathing syncs. They draw air into themselves as one, release it as one.

After a few moments of tense silence, he eases himself off of her and rolls onto his side. He draws his arms around her, holding her close. They face each other, entwining fingers. She keeps her eyes on their hands, until she can bear the intensity of his gaze no longer. She raises her eyes to his. He offers a smile. A peace offering.

"Mal…" she whispers softly.

He brushes her hair out of her face, bringing his eyes close to her. "Yes," he nuzzles her gently.

"You know how I'd been taking those herbs, to discourage pregnancy?"

"Yes?"

"I…I stopped taking them. About a week ago. Since I thought you'd be gone longer, I was going to tell you when you came back but…" she buries her face in her hands, whining like a wounded dog. He slips his arms around her cautiously.

"If you have to have his baby, so be it." his jaw is so tightly clenched when he says it. He stares over her shoulder at the wall. He can't look at her when he gives her up.

"I'm not having his baby, I'm having yours!" she snaps, raising herself up on her elbows. "That's what we decided. He knew he would never regain my trust or respect if he forced me to lie with him."

"He-he's letting us…?"

"Yes, Mal. Us. Ours." She rests her palm on her cheek, bringing her brow to his.

"That or he plans to execute me for our bastard child."

"He understands the needs of those in a political match. He even said, 'what's one more bastard on the throne?'"

Mal whistles slowly. "I almost want to thank him, but he hasn't done anything. He just hasn't forced us to do anything," he rolls onto his back and throws an arm over his face, hiding in the crook of his elbow. He laughs softly, breathlessly, "You could have told me sooner, you know."

"You barged in here and jumped me before I could." She points out dryly. He peeks at her cautiously; her eyes are laughing. He smiles.

Her eyes grow serious, and she strokes her arm carefully. "You don't…you don't have to pretend you want children yet, if you don't, I can talk to Nikolai."

"Nothing in me is pretending right now. You know how bad I am at it. Isn't that why we're out here instead of the palace? So I'd stop being so conspicuous?"

She smiles. "We just never talked about…"

"I never thought we had the option," he says softly, looking at her with watery eyes. She places a hand on his face, drawing him in for a kiss.

"So we might have made a baby." He murmurs against her lip. She giggles into the kiss. He grins broadly, his mood soaring towards bliss. .

"Maybe," she lifts herself up and straddles him. He raises a brow at her. "But just to be thorough…"

She is cut off by his enthusiastic kiss of agreement.

_A/N I can't write hate sex. So of course I added a fair amount of fluff. Review, Happy Raspberry Week!_


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